“How did you happen to buy the candlestick?” De Medici asked again, his voice mild. His eyes, accustoming themselves to the poor light, were taking in some of the features of the room. He had the sense for a moment of having blundered into a theatrical warehouse. Spangled gowns, tawdrily upholstered chairs, sofas, dilapidated theater trunks, ancient “flats” containing parts of drawing-room walls, and various other knick-knacks which he recognized as scenic fittings, littered the place. “From the way you went after that candlestick,” he was saying with a careful smile, “I thought maybe you knew something about it ... and its mate.” She nodded her head. “Ha, I wanted them both,” she answered, “but there was only one. But I’ll get the other one sometime. You wait and see. I’ll get it.” “Harmless,” thought De Medici swiftly, “and not on her guard. It’ll be best to talk directly.” He continued aloud: “Why did you want them?” “Ha, ha,” the old woman cackled in answer. “I wanted them, all right. I know something about them. Ha, they belong to me. This one does, anyway.” “And what do you know about them?” De Medici persisted. His body was quivering with excitement. Here lay a clear and open track. Here was a creature who knew something about the candlestick signature. But her next words irritated him. Her childishness would be as hard to circumvent as shrewdness might have been. She leaned forward and spoke in a hysterical whisper: “They were Victor Ballau’s candlesticks,” she said. “I know that,” De Medici nodded impatiently. “But why did you want them?” She laughed. “Why did I want them? Ha! Look at this.” Her gnarled hand proudly indicated the cluttered room. “I got most of it all here, young man. Nearly all of it. Years and years it’s took to get it all. And when I read in the papers that Victor Ballau’s ownings were going to be auctioned off, I knew I’d find something I wanted because Victor Ballau was always fond of the old Goldsmith and I knew he’d have some of the things. And, sure enough, there was the candlestick. But there ought to have been two of them and there was only one. I recognized it at once ... although it’s more than twenty years since I’ve seen it. But it’s genuine.” “Where did you see them last?” De Medici asked, his thought groping with the word “Goldsmith.”... He was thinking, “the Goldsmith Theater ... oh, yes, the program in the handbag. It was the Goldsmith Theater program....” She interrupted his gropings. “Ha,” she cried, “they couldn’t fool my old eyes. They belonged to the Bandoux Repertoire Company of the old Goldsmith.” She became excited with memories. “Yes, yes, those were the days. You should have been there, young man, you should have known those days.” “The Goldsmith Theater in London,” murmured De Medici. “The finest repertoire company that ever lived!” the old woman exclaimed. “How do you happen to be interested in the old Goldsmith?” he interrupted with a smile.